


All That Remains

by valiantfindekano



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Gen, I tagged ships but it can be read as gen, M/M, No spoilers because it's an AU, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), it's just some dudes who really love other dudes, some other tags:, the start of Infinity War was bogus so I wrote this instead, this doesn't hold up to any kind of canon scrutiny but that's not the point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 18:53:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14599491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valiantfindekano/pseuds/valiantfindekano
Summary: Steve Rogers, when Thor meets him outside a renovated dockside property on the far side of Brooklyn Bridge that boasts hand-poured coffees and artisan, gluten-free bakery items, has stubble on his chin and shadows under his eyes that weren’t there last time Thor saw him. But if they’re to talk of the changes in eye structure, he’ll have to explain …“—What happened to your eye?!”(An AU fic featuring the Asgard refugee ship arriving safely on Earth, and Thor and Cap going to a coffee shop. Who's Thanos?)





	All That Remains

Apparently “upstate New York” isn’t happy about playing host to a spaceship full of Asgardians. 

It’s not that Thor is unsympathetic; no one driving the ship had any real training or credentials to be helmsman in the first place, so it’s regrettable but understandable that some fields were damaged during the landing process. Still, a greeting from the National Guard of the United States wasn’t the greeting he had anticipated … although it’s fine, really! Thor’s charm and reputation had done enough to win them over, in the end. (Sort of.) 

Or maybe it had been the timely intervention led by Stark, of all people, but Stark is pissed off now. Thor also expects there will inevitably be some flapping of feathers by the man who literally calls himself _Strange,_ sort of like a territorial goose, but he has yet to come flapping.

Point is, the situation is diffused for now, and it hasn’t ended with Thor stuck in a prison or a boardroom meeting. That’s probably because Stark doesn’t know who else is in that spaceship. 

“If you fuck things up here,” Stark offers as parting words, “it’s a one-way ticket to clown town for you, and trust me, the locals are _not_ friendly.” 

* * *

It takes a bit of private investigation to find out that there isn’t exactly an Avengers team to meet up with anymore. The private investigation in this case means a bunch of phone calls from Bruce’s phone; Natasha, apparently, is off limits, and Barton doesn’t answer, so there’s only one other choice. 

Steve Rogers, when Thor meets him outside a renovated dockside property on the far side of Brooklyn Bridge that boasts hand-poured coffees and artisan, gluten-free bakery items, has stubble on his chin and shadows under his eyes that weren’t there last time Thor saw him. But if they’re to talk of the changes in eye structure, he’ll have to explain …

“—What happened to your eye?!”

It’s interesting; Stark had chosen to comment on the hair first. (“Wow. Hack job.”)

“My sister gouged it out while she was trying to kill me,” Thor answers.

Thor’s lacking a bank account and credit card for ATM withdrawals, so Steve ends up buying both of their coffees, passing one to the God of Thunder that has the word “decaf” scrawled across its paper sleeve. At first, he seems wearily resigned by the whole thing, but the expression gives way after a few seconds to a more recognizable earnestness in his blue eyes.  

“I didn’t know you have a sister.”

“I didn’t know either,” Thor admits. “Also … _had._ She’s dead now. So is my father.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“My home exploded,” Thor adds after a second of contemplative silence.

Steve hesitates, but then he reaches for his coffee, taking a careful sip. “I’m sorry about that too. Uh, maybe you should start from the beginning?”

Thor decides to mirror his friend’s sip, overestimates, burns his tongue, and has to fight to keep his expression cool and collected while he spits the coffee out again. “It was an eventful few days,” he begins, and notes the calculation in Steve’s expression at the word _days._ Yes, that was all it had taken to tear down everything in his life he’d cared about, which could almost be an impressive testament to Loki’s ability to fuck up whatever he touches. Is that unkind? Or just fact?

He explains, though, to the best of his ability. Odin’s exile, Loki posing as him on the throne of Asgard; Odin’s ensuing death, and Hela’s rise and conquest; Sakaar. _Sakaar._ Sakaar the trash planet, where he’d cobbled together some alien support and accidentally found Banner along the way.

“Why didn’t you invite him?!” Steve sounds genuinely affronted, and Thor wavers with a guilty expression for a moment.

“He has anxiety. And…” Here, Thor has to lick his lips and pause to think of the right way to phrase this part of the matter. “He’s making sure my brother doesn’t get into trouble while I’m away.” 

Disapproval makes itself known on Steve’s features before he even ventures to clarify: “Loki? He’s here?”

Thor gives him his brightest smile.

Loki, of course, is an unenthusiastic guest, full of protests and excuses and increasingly more desperate wheedling the closer the spaceship had come towards Earth. For someone once so intent on bending the human population to their knees to worship him, he’s backtracked rather quickly—but that might have something to do with Thor’s friends. Steve among them, yes, though he doesn’t think Loki holds much regard for the super-soldier.

Alternatively, Thor has considered that maybe his brother hasn’t given up his little dream of conquest after all, and that’s the reason he’s reluctant to return. Too much temptation, or not enough resources to enact his dastardly plans…too much to hope that he might feel a little guilt about it, though.

Steve just goes to rub at his temple, underneath the hem of his baseball cap.

The coffee is still hot, but it doesn’t burn as badly on the second sip. It’s one of Midgard’s nicer drinks, in Thor’s opinion, and while it doesn’t compete with a tankard of ale served in a cup made from a hollowed-out herdbeast horn, there’s something charmingly quaint about the way humans sit in these brightly-painted stores while sipping it.

If Steve has been paying attention, he should know Thor’s defense already, not that it stops him from saying it anyway.

“He’s all I have left.”

It’s a second of observing Steve’s rougher appearance before a kind of follow-up sucker-punch hits him: right now, there are no Avengers to return to, as confirmed by both Rogers and Stark. Another little Ragnarök here at his home away from home.

_He’s all I have left._

Along with a handful of friends—for now. He has promises to keep for the people of Asgard, a legacy to uphold and a legacy to build, but his mother is dead, his father is dead, his sister is dead, his planet is dead.

His brother, lying cunning backstabbing shit though he is, is still here, with a heart that still beats.

Steve exhales, breaking Thor’s reverie. “I won’t lie and say I like the idea of him being here, but I’ll tell you this…I understand.” When he lifts his gaze high enough for his blue eyes to be clearly visible under the brim of his hat, Thor can see that trace of sadness in them again—but there’s a smile there too, curiously enough.

“What happened while I was gone?”

Steve explains, to the best of his ability, although his voice is quiet given their surroundings. It isn’t lost on Thor the way he speaks in euphemisms when he can, or the way his eyes dart from side to side as he talks about the Sokovia Accords, the disagreements among the team, the attack on the United Nations…

But of course the story goes further back than that. Steve uncurls his hand from where he’s unwittingly clenched it so tightly around his cup of coffee. “I’ll have to introduce you to my friend Bucky sometime. He’s, um. It’s difficult to explain. Childhood friend of mine, got me into the army back in the day. And then Hydra got ahold of him.”

Thor’s eyebrows raise, and the gesture alone must warn Steve of the worst possible explanation that’s trying to piece itself together in his mind.

“They tortured him,” Steve explains, leaning in. “He broke out—he’s clean now. Recovering. Let’s just say that Stark doesn’t agree with it, and that’s how things turned out the way they did.”

“And you thought my sister gouging out my eye was weird.” Thor crosses his arms and leans back so he can observe his friend.

“Not really the same thing,” Steve asserts, then sighs. “Look, my point is…sometimes people do bad things, but they don’t necessarily deserve to die for them. If you trust your brother to be here on Earth with you, then I know I’m certainly in no position to judge you. Like you said: all you have left…I know the feeling.”

The smell of fresh coffee grounds drifting through the room halts a possible counterargument from Thor. The barista is humming a tune along with the radio, and the sunlight hits the counter at such an angle as to make the rows of porcelain cups and saucers shimmer.

“You still have Earth,” Thor points out. He hopes he can be forgiven if there’s a hint of bitterness to the comment, not unlike the aftertaste from his caffè americano.

“Yeah. And so do _you._ ” Steve smiles; it’s slanted a little sideways, which could be the result of either relief or chagrin. “So don’t let Loki do anything that will take that away from us, because you won’t have me and Stark there to stop him this time. Got it?”

“Got it,” Thor agrees, and flashes the thumbs-up sign. 


End file.
